Page 67 of The Missing Pages
“Yes, it’s a pretty rare thing. I saw it with my granddad once. He said starlings come together at dusk to exchange information. And flying tightly together like that helps them all keep warm together in the night air.”
He reached his arm around and pulled her closer. “Like this,” he whispered in her ear. Violet felt Hugo’s heat emanating from beneath his warm-up jacket.
“I wonder what they’re telling each other,” she whispered back.
Hugo remained quiet, contemplating the birds swirling together as they shifted their patterns above.
It wasn’t just an incredible sight, as the sound coming from the birds was almost as striking. From the high-pitched notes of their squawks to the sheer vibration from several hundred pairs of wings beating, it resonated like waves crashing against the shore.
“I think they’re communicating not just between themselves, but also to us,” Hugo finally said. “They’re reminding us that we’re never alone.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
ADA’S WRIST GRAZED MY SLEEVE AS WE STOOD ON THEstern deck watching two white terns fly above. They appeared suspended in mid-flight, surfing the wind created by the air tunnel our massive ship generated whilst gliding over the Atlantic.
“How beautiful it must be up there, looking down at us,” Ada said.
While other passengers stood amongst us on this particular deck, I knew Ada and I could talk freely because my parents’ circle only ever took their sea walks on the first-class deck.
“And this air,” she added. “I wish I could bottle it up and bring it back home to London. I feel like all the smog has been cleared from my nostrils, from my mind. I’m thinking more clearly now than ever!”
I wanted to tell her that I certainly was not. I was distracted merely by being so close to her. All I wanted to do was kiss her again.
It was our third evening sailing on theTitanic. The ocean breeze was crisp and every place on board seemed to be serenaded by one ensemble or another. If you walked into the Palm Court, music was playing, just as it was in the VerandahCafé, the dining room, and all of the ship’s other social spaces. Everywhere you went, effervescent notes danced in the air.
“Mr. Ismay told my father we might beat the record for crossing the Atlantic. We could even arrive in New York a day early,” I informed Ada.
“Wouldn’t that be something.” She lifted her chin upward and closed her eyes, the sting of the night’s breeze making her draw her cape closer around her shoulders. “But part of me wishes we could be on this ship a little longer.”
“You’d need more books, then.”
“I would indeed.” She opened her eyes, a smile spreading across her face. “A lot more.”
She lifted her hand and pressed it to my chest. “So you really haven’t taken it off you,” she said as she felt the Little Bacon beneath my dinner jacket.
“No. I told Quaritch I wouldn’t.”
“You’re certainly quite the romantic, Mr. Widener.”
“How can you tell?”
“All the signs are there, written down.”
“Where?” I asked playfully.
“Up there,” she said and pointed.
“Well, the sky never lies,” I told her.
Her hand tapped my chest again.
“No, it does not.”
“Is it terrible to admit that I don’t want you to go back to London?”
“But where would that leave me, then?” she said. “I have responsibilities. Quaritch depends on me. I have worked too hard to give all that up.”
“I have a strong feeling everything will begin to fall into place once we dock in New York.”
